


Never Kissed Anyone Who Didn’t Burn Me Like the Sun.

by jannika



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-12 04:34:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/807274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jannika/pseuds/jannika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam’s just looking for a place to stay. He finds a lot more. Or, Liam is sort of having a crisis, Louis and Zayn have a spare room in their flat, and Louis knows how to solve a triangle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Kissed Anyone Who Didn’t Burn Me Like the Sun.

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't going to do this, and then I decided I had to, but at the time the entire plot was basically ~and then they have sex~ the end. That time was yesterday morning. At some point in there I added all these feelings? And actual plot? Sort of, anyway. Um. Inspired heavily by this  gif of Louis and Zayn holding hands on Liam’s arm that ruined my life. As always, for the Liam to my Zayn.

Liam drops out of school the day he misses qualifying for the Olympics by three-tenths of a second. He doesn’t qualify, and he’s just standing there, dripping sweat and thinking about how behind he is on his coursework because of all the training he’s been doing for this, and how he has to work tomorrow and he has voice lessons after that and how maybe then he can cram in three hours at the library because he has several things to revise and then it’s. It hits him that he should be shaking with his failure, that he should be feeling terrible or angry or bitter. But he doesn’t feel anything but the same low-grade panic he feels every day. It’s the fucking Olympics, and he doesn’t feel any different than he does any other day of his life. It hits him then that he has no idea what he’s doing. None at all. He’s got a hundred things going on and he doesn’t actually care about any of them. They don’t mean anything. He sits down on the track, feeling lost, but suddenly a little less panicked, and then he gets up, heads to his dorm, and sends e-mails to his advisor, his career counselor, his professors, his dorm advisor, his vocal coach, his football coach, his track coach and his boss telling them all he’s just not going to do it anymore. That he just. Quits.

Then he gets in bed and sleeps for three days.

When he wakes up, he’s got exactly forty-two missed calls. He deletes all the ones that didn’t come from a family member. He wonders for a minute if any of his mates have noticed that he hasn’t been at anything, until he remembers that in the blur of doing everything he could, of pushing himself for years, he doesn’t actually have anyone close to him. He calls his mum, tells her he’s just not been feeling well, sad from not qualifying and lost in revising. He lies and tells her he’ll be home after the finals he’s not planning to take. He’ll have to tell her eventually, he supposes, but right now? He just. Doesn’t. He walks across the room to see a note in a thick envelope shoved under his door. It informs him that if he’s no longer a student at this institution they’ll expect him to be out of this room by the end of the week. Oh. Right.

He pulls up his laptop, ignores his e-mails, and heads to Craigslist, mentally trying to figure out what he can afford, now that he doesn’t have a job. He does have savings. He’s always been good with money, he’s always been good with everything. That’s sort of the problem. He scans listing after listing, expensive or bad neighborhoods or creepy ads or all three, until one that seems promising catches his eye. It’s in his price range and it’s a part of town he knows and the text is. Well. Liam thinks he could probably do a lot worse.  
__  
We’re looking for a roommate for our flat. It’s sort of crap, but it’s also cheap and you’d get the pleasure of living with us. The room is small, but probably great if you don’t have a lot of stuff. Or even if you do. You can just leave it sitting around. We’re not too concerned. We also don’t really care how old you are or what you do or if you’re male or female. You should be able to pay, not be a total dick, be gay-friendly, be up for a good time now and then, or at least leaving us alone about ours, and if you could cook, that would be ace since neither of us can. We’re two men in our early twenties, we’ve lived here for about three years. Looking for someone right away. Send us a little about you and include something that proves you’re a real person in the e-mail. We might get back to you.  
  
Liam shrugs and hits the reply, sending out:  
__  
Hi,  
I’m interested in the room. I’m Liam. I can cook and pay and I’m pretty sure I’m a nice person. I could move in right away. I need to, actually. E-mail me or text whenever.  
  
He includes a picture with the text and hits send. He gets up to get a drink of water and comes back to his phone already blinking.  
__  
Hi Liam. Louis from the flat. When can you come see it?  
  
Oh. Alright then, he thinks. He answers that he is literally free anytime at all, and when Louis texts back and asks if by that he means tonight, Liam jumps in the shower and heads over.

***

He’s greeted at the door by the single most attractive boy he’s ever seen, until the door opens wider and the other most attractive boy he’s ever seen is standing behind the first one. Right. That’s. A perk?

“Hi!” the first boy says. “I’m Louis, thanks for coming.”

“Zayn,” the other one says, nodding his head, a half smile on his lips. Liam tries to smile back. He’s pretty sure he fails.

“I’m Liam,” he says.

“We know, come sit,” Louis says. He gestures toward the couch and Liam follows. They sit on either side of him, studying him.

“So, um,” Liam says.

“Right, you need a room and we have one,” Louis says.

“Yeah,” Liam says.

“Lucky that,” Louis says, smiling, “and you cook?”

“I do,” Liam nods.

“Better,” Louis nods, “um, did you like, we could ask you things? You could ask us?”

“Well,” Liam starts, and they’re both looking at him with big eyes and pretty faces and Liam swallows a little. “Like, I’m sort of having a crisis, I think? And so I need to move by the end of the week? So as long as you’re not actual axe murders or something,” Liam shrugs.

“You think you’re having a crisis?” Louis repeats.

“Yeah, probably,” Liam says. He feels like his heart is racing. He’s not sure why.

“How so?” Louis asks, he actually looks concerned, like maybe he’s worried about someone he met three seconds ago. Liam gets that, really, he thinks he used to let himself do that all the time. Used to care so much about everyone and everything. He feels a little like a shell, like he’s been hollowed, sitting on this couch. Probably definitely a crisis, then.

“I dropped out,” Liam says.

“Of school?” Zayn says, and Liam turns his head a little to look at him. It’s the first question he’s asked, and his voice allows Liam a feeling, just for a second, a little breakthrough that he’s actually sitting in between two boys who look like this, and it’s. Worth the trip over here. Just for that.

“Everything,” Liam says.

“You dropped out of everything?” Louis repeats.

“I have savings, I can pay,” Liam says. Louis shakes his head.

“Are you okay there, Liam?” Louis asks, reaching out a hand and putting it on his shoulder.

“Probably not,” Liam admits.

“Staying here would help?” Louis asks, shooting a look at Zayn.

“I can’t stay at the dorms because I’m not a student, and I can’t go home because then my family would know I dropped out of things,” Liam says.

“Right,” Zayn says. He and Louis appear to be doing some sort of silent communication thing with their eyes. Liam thinks that’s fair.

“Did you want us to help you move your shit, then?” Louis asks, grinning.

“Seriously?” Liam asks.

“What?” Zayn says.

“That’s it? You’re just going to let me live here?” Liam asks.

“We promise we’re not murderers? Did you want to see the room first?” Louis asks. Liam shakes his head.

“I guess, I mean, but, thanks?” Liam says. Louis grins and Zayn shakes his head.

“I’m a sucker for hard luck stories,” Louis says. Zayn smirks.

“Oh,” Liam says.

“Big brown-eyed hard luck stories most of all,” Louis says. Liam allows himself to flush a little. It’s almost like a feeling.

They help him move his things the next morning. The room is small, but his things fit and Liam thinks it’s probably the perfect place to have a breakdown.

***  
The weird thing about not doing a million things, is that Liam doesn’t always remember that he’s not. Like, something he’ll wake up in the middle of the night, sure he’s supposed to be doing something, late for something, and then he’ll look around and realize where he is and breath, count to a hundred and wait for his pulse to quiet. He generally can’t fall back asleep then, so he’ll head out to the kitchen. Sometimes it’s empty, but often Louis or Zayn or both of them are sitting there. Louis always makes Liam tea and holds his hand, Zayn always asks if Liam would rather go outside and get some air, and they end up standing on the fire escape for hours. When it’s all three of them they normally end up on the fire escape together, tea in hand, and Liam feels better on those nights than he has in a long time.

“I missed the Olympics,” he says, one night when he’s been there for about two months. He’s never talked about it, not really.

“What?” Louis asks. They’re all sitting on the steps, sort of tangled in each other. They both touch a lot, each other, and Liam, and it’s nice, it makes him feel.

“The day I quit everything? I was running to qualify for the Olympics, I missed it by three-tenths of a second. And i didn’t feel anything,” Liam says.

“No?” Zayn asks.

“That’s when I knew. When something like that happens you should feel it, right? And I didn’t. So.” Liam says.

“So you came to our door,” Louis says.

“Yeah,” Liam agrees.

“Do you miss it? Miss doing things?” Zayn says.

“I don’t know yet,” Liam says.

“The Olympics, though, fuck,” Louis says.

“I know,” Liam says. Louis bites his lip.

“Do you know, I think they’re looking for a youth coach at the community center,” Louis says. Louis works for this after-school development program for at-risk youth. He always jokes that it’s perfect because he’s pretty sure he still is an at-risk youth himself.

“Oh,” Liam says.

“If you were interested,” Louis says, “I think it’s only part-time.”

“Maybe,” Liam says. He turns it over in his brain, and it sounds less stressful than everything else he’s done ever, and he should do something, he supposes. He nods. “Yeah.”

“I’ll ask for you,” Louis says, beaming.

“Thanks,” Liam says. Louis smiles again.

“I do what I can,” Louis says. Zayn rolls his eyes.

“All you ever do is give,” Zayn says.

“I know,” Louis says, smiling. Liam smiles back, soft and real.

It’s a million miles from where he was, and he still has no idea what he’s doing, and it’s still hard to feel, but when Louis’ hand brushes his thigh and his pulse speeds up, Liam thinks it’s a very real start.

***

Every day gets a little less hollow. He does take the job, and it’s sort of fun, and full of strangers, and that helps. He starts getting up early, starts making breakfast, lunch, and dinner for all of them. It makes him feel useful, and they really do need it. Louis eats nothing but garbage left to his own devices, and Zayn tends to just not eat, and after all they’ve done for him, it’s the least Liam can do, really. He also organizes the flat on his days off, and sometimes he cleans too, and they flash him these big, grateful smiles. He feels more like himself and less like himself all at once.

They go out a lot, Louis and Zayn buying him drinks he’s never heard of until his head is spinning and he’s not feeling in a way that’s totally different. They get tattoos, just one, Liam tells himself, and then he’s addicted, the rush and the sensation, the way it’s permanent and forever and he did it, he put it there, the way he can’t help but feel every single second of it. He loves them.

And then one night, when he’s explaining to a police officer who hadn’t fallen for Louis’ charm, that really he was driving and it’s all okay and Liam hasn’t been drinking tonight and they’d just like to go home- he catches Louis and Zayn out of the corner of his eye, making grateful faces at him over the police officer’s shoulders. Drunk, grateful, stunningly attractive faces. Liam thinks they’re probably the best friends he’s ever had. Then he thinks, realizes, that he’s probably sort of in love with both of them.

He shrugs and blames it on the crisis, promises the officer he’ll take the warning to heart, and heads off.

***

Sometimes Liam can't believe how slow things move now. There are whole days when the three of them don't do anything at all, just sit and borrow cigarettes from Zayn now and then, watching movies and eating leftovers of whatever Liam's made the day before, breaking into beer when it seems like a reasonable drinking hour. He still can't believe he doesn't have things to do, that he can actually just sit like this. He works about 25 hours a week now, and it's good, leaves him time to cook and breathe and feel and think.

"Do you ever think," he asks one night when they're sitting on the sofa, Louis with his legs over both Liam and Zayn's laps, "about things you heard as a kid that stayed with you like, more than it should have?"

"What do you mean?" Louis says, smiling around his beer bottle.

"Like, I've been thinking a lot about when I was younger and sick, and then better, and people would say, adults would all say how grateful I should feel to be alive, how I had been given this gift, right? And I think for years I felt like any second I wasn't busy was wasting it, like anything I wasn't the best at was a waste of the work of all those doctors and nurses and like. That's probably not what anyone meant, is it?" Liam asks. Zayn frowns.

"No wonder you dropped out of everything," he says. Liam shrugs.

"A person can't live with that sort of pressure on them," Louis says, reaching out and squeezing Liam's hand.

"Clearly not," Liam says. He's been thinking about all of it a lot, about when he stopped feeling and why, about it being too much, about the slow way feelings are creeping back in, the way these feel lasting. Burning.

"How, how sick were you?" Zayn asks, putting a hand in Liam's knee as he does. Liam shrugs again. He doesn't really talk about it, ever. What do you say about being four and surrounded by needles and machines and strangers and the word death? He's fine now, physically anyway, so he just. Doesn't want to think about it. Doesn't want to remember doctors with scary, serious faces telling his mum things about his odds when he wasn't as asleep as they thought.

"Very, I guess?" Liam says, staring at Zayn's hand on his knee. They do that thing, Louis and Zayn, the silent eye thing they do, and Louis squeezes Liam's hand, tight.

"How old?" Zayn asks.

"Like, my whole life until I was about nine?" Liam says.

"What about now?" Louis asks.

"What about it?" Liam says.

"Like, right now, this minute, do you feel like you're wasting something?" Louis says.

"Not at all," Liam says, and it's so bizarre how true it is.

"Why's that, do you think?" Louis asks, grinning.

"I think," Liam starts, "Being here is like, I can just, I make food because I want to, I'm sat here because I want to be, I go to work and I want to. And I've never done that. But maybe the real waste is doing things I don't want to? Missing out on having time to enjoy?"

"Well said," Louis says, "and see, Zayn? We helped!" Zayn rolls his eyes a little, and his fingers sort of drum against Liam's knee, like maybe he's unsure.

"You have no idea how much," Liam says, earnestly, needing them to know. Louis squeezes his hand again.

"Good," Louis says, nodding. Liam wants to tell them, suddenly, that they've changed his life, that he’s more grateful than he can say, that he loves them, that so many things. He doesn't ,though, be because he thinks they know, he doesn't think he needs to. He takes a breath and says, instead,

"When I sit my family down and tell them all of this, will you come?" And he thinks that's the same sentiment, really.

"I don't know how much help I'd be, but yeah," Zayn says.

"I, personally, am charming and families love me. I'll be very useful," Louis says, smiling.

And Liam just, loves them both a lot.

***

They’ve been living together for about a year when it happens. It’s been a year and Liam has been working for months, and he’s almost told his family half a dozen times, and the fact he hasn’t is starting to make him feel terrible. Which he sort of loves, because feeling his own feelings still gives him this huge rush. It’s been a year and Liam comes home and is making himself tea in the kitchen, when he looks out on the fire escape and. Oh.

Oh. Fuck. Oh. God. Oh. That’s.

Louis and Zayn are on the fire escape, and they’re. Zayn is sitting on the railing, sort of straddling Louis who is standing in between his legs and they’re kissing and their hands are all over each other and Liam is. He feels a little like he can’t breathe. He stares, and then feels terrible for staring. He wonders why they didn’t tell him, how he didn’t know, he wonders if maybe they’re not as close as he thought, if they don’t want him to know, then he tells himself that’s stupid because they’re allowed to have things that are just theirs, of course they are. He doesn’t get to know everything, he knows that. He stares and it’s. He thinks he’s jealous. He’s not sure of who. He is sure that it’s- he’s an awful, terrible, horrid person, because it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen in his entire life. He sort of wants the kitchen floor to swallow him. He wills himself to stop staring, yelling at himself about privacy and respect.

He can’t stop seeing it, though. Later, in his room, with his hand in his pajama pants, he can’t see anything else, and he gets off, frantic and desperate, to the way Louis’ hand had looked wrapped around Zayn’s thigh. Three times.

It doesn’t stop. Liam doesn’t stop thinking about it, but it also doesn’t stop happening. He keeps like, catching them? Which is strange because it’s never happened before. Which is strange because it’s been a year and he doesn’t know if this just started or if he’s just never caught them, but either way he doesn’t know why now. He doesn’t get it. He also does know why he can’t stop watching. Why he can never just avert his eyes and move on. He feels terrible, but he just. Nothing has ever turned him on quite like the moments he sees them in. He’s not sure if that’s because he’s learning to feel again and so everything is more intense, or because it’s Louis and Zayn, or a little of both.

He sees them in the hallway, hips grinding and legs slotted, he sees them through the crack in Louis’ door, shirts off, Zayn’s tongue on Louis’ chest, he sees them in the bathroom, Louis on his knees in front of Zayn. He sees them every fucking time he closes his eyes, he sees them every time he’s in his own bed, alone and trying to think about anything else.

They keep touching him too, of course, except now Zayn's hand on his shoulder is scalding. Now all he can think when he's hugging Louis is about the two of them pressed together. Every time their hands are on him he thinks about their hands on each other. And when they're both touching him at once, when they're all tangled together somewhere, Liam has to remind himself to breathe.

He thinks it’s all due to the breakdown, to the crisis. Only it’s been a year, only his feelings are more in his control these days. Only maybe it’s more to do with that thing where he’s sort of in love with both of them.

He’s a terrible person, he tells himself. They’d basically saved him, taken him in, and he’s repaying them by being some sort of perverted person who watches their friends have sex. He’s basically awful, really.

He can’t stop watching.

***

One night, after a long day at work- there are more of those lately, long days, because he’s transitioning to full time, and it’s sort of exactly what he wants right now- he comes home and doesn’t see anyone. He checks the kitchen and the fire escape, and then shrugs and heads toward his own room. He’s stoppen in the middle of the hall by shadows from Louis’ room. Louis and Zayn sized ones. Liam takes a step back and peeks through the door, and fuck. He should have kept walking, because Louis is on top of Zayn on the bed and they’re kissing, and their hands are all over each other and Liam freezes. He always freezes, even though it’s not new anymore.

And it’s been a really long day, and a long year, and a long month or so of this, of seeing this, and he just. Fuck. He watches for minute, even though he shouldn’t, biting his lip, and then, without really thinking about it, brushing his hand past the front of his pants, a brief moment of friction that’s already enough to make him need to close his eyes for a second.

“Lou,” Zayn says through the door. Liam snaps his eyes open to focus on them. God, he should walk away.

“I know,” Louis says.

“Just,” Zayn says, “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Louis says. He pulls back a little, and Liam feels transfixed.

“Yeah,” Zayn repeats.

“Liam,” Louis says, glancing over his shoulder. Liam is pretty sure is heart stops, “I had been waiting. Invitations are for boys who ask, but you’re killing Zayn tonight, and I can’t have a dead Zayn on my hands.”

“I,” Liam says, rocking back and forth. He might be dead. He shrinks back against the wall.

‘We can see you, love. Just come in here, would you?” Louis says. Liam feels himself nod, will himself to walk forward. Louis climbs off Zayn as he does, and the two of them grasp each other’s hand and make room for Liam to sit down. Liam wonders, briefly, if they’re going to ask him to get the fuck out. He doesn’t think they would, but they probably also didn’t think he’d be watching them like he has been. So.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” Liam says as he sit down. They’re both smiling, and Liam can’t really figure out why.

“Why are you apologizing?” Zayn asks.

“I’m, I shouldn’t have, watching you. I was, and I’m sorry, I would never like, want to invade your privacy, only I guess I did and I didn’t mean to but it was terrible of me and I’m sorry,” Liam says.

“Liam,” Louis says, all patient and something else Liam is too busy trying not to actually die right on spot to work through.

“I didn’t even know you were like, together or whatever. I mean, why would I? But I never saw you before and I,” Liam says.

“We didn’t want you to, until now,” Zayn says.

“Didn’t want to scare you off,” Louis says. Liam blinks.

“You didn’t, you knew I was, you knew. You did it on purpose?” Liam says.

“Keep going there, Li, you’re so close,” Louis says. Liam stares at both of them, actually looks at them for the first time since he’d walked in. They’re still holding hands, but Louis’ other hand is fidgeting like he’s itching to touch something. They’re both looking at him, faces full of equal parts fondness, encouragement, and. Lust. Oh. That’s. They’re not. Liam is sure they don’t mean, because people don’t just, but then he thinks back to how Louis had said _invitation_ and he just. They’re nodding at him and both a little red and Liam says,

“You wanted me to see, you wanted me to,” Liam stops and breathes, but like, it’s Louis and Zayn. Even if he’s off base here, they’re not going to. Anything but have tea on the fire escape with him, probably. “You wanted me to want to, like, join you?”

“Yes,” Zayn says. Louis and Zayn move closer, surrounding Liam on either side. Still not touching him, but so close.

“So what happens now, is you tell us if you do. Want to join us, that is. You can tell us no and we’ll all just pretend this never happened even if we’re terribly disappointed, but. You could also say yes. Tell us what you want,” Louis says. Liam swallows. He wants. Fuck, obviously he wants this. He brain is spinning out unhelpful things, about how he doesn’t know what this is, what they’re actually even saying, about how what if they’re just like, swingers, what if this a one-time only deal, what if a million things. What if he can’t actually do this. Thinking about this alone in his room and actually doing it are two different things, and he knows that. He just.

“It’s okay, no matter what,” Zayn puts in, studying Liam’s face, “We really-”

“Shh,” Louis says, putting a finger on Zayn’s lips, “we’re not talking about us right now. Just Liam. Just want Liam wants.”

And. Liam wants. And he like, they’re both looking at him, and he loves them both, and he wants them both and like, he trusts them both, without a doubt, without question. He sort of. He doesn’t care if it’s just once, because he’ll hate himself forever if he doesn’t do this. He has to do this. No, not has to. He just- he wants this. Wants, he decides, is a really good feeling to hang on to.

“I want,” Liam says. Zayn beams. Louis grins.

“You want what?” Louis says. Liam’s not surprised Louis is making him say it. He loves that Louis is making him say it.

“You, both of you. I want. to. Join. I want, fuck can someone, both of you please be touching me now?” Liam asks. Louis’s lips are on his about second later. God, he’s kissing Louis and Zayn’s licking his neck, licking lines up Liam’s neck, sucking at spots, and Louis is licking at his mouth, and Liam might be dying all over again. Louis snakes a hand up Liam’s thigh and Zayn’s got a hand on the back of Liam’s neck, and somewhere over Liam’s lap the two of them are still holding hands. Fuck. Liam isn’t sure what to do with his own hands, his own anything, but he wants to touch, wants to do this. He reaches out and grabs at both their shirts, pulling them in even closer. He feels Louis smile against his mouth. Louis pulls back, and whispers, all hot breaths in Liam’s ear,

“I think you should tell us, no, tell Zayn, about watching us,” Louis says. Liam swallows.

“What about it?” Liam says, sort of squeaks out. Louis reaches down and starts working on the button on Liam’s jeans, grinning.

“Like, how much you liked it, what you did about it,” Louis says. Fuck.

“Fuck,” Zayn says.

“I, it was,” Liam stops, but Louis nods at him again, still all fond and encouraging, even as his hand fiddles with Liam’s zipper, “Fuck, all I could think about.”

“When you got yourself off?” Louis asks, low and smiling, still. His hand is tracing along the top of Liam’s boxers now. On his lap, the hand Louis and Zayn still have joined are dancing on his thighs, little brushes with thumbs.

“Yes,” Liam says, nodding, closing his eyes for a minute.

“Why the fuck are you two still wearing so much?” Zayn says, because somehow every time someone opens their mouth it becomes the new hottest thing Liam has ever heard. In his life.

“Patience, Zayn,” Louis says, smirking. He lets go of Zayn’s hand then, though, and uses his hands to pull Liam’s shirt off, then his own. Liam shivers.

"M'always patient," Zayn says, leaning down to lick a line on Liam's stomach.

"You," Liam says, squirming, "are wearing the most now. Too much."

"Yeah?" Zayn asks, looking up and grinning.

"Far too much," Liam says. Zayn's smile grows. Louis runs his fingers in lines over Liam's stomachs, dipping back down to the top of his boxers every so often.

"You want to come fix that?" Zayn asks. Liam swallows, and, fuck, yes. He leans over and goes to pull for Zayn's shirt. His hands get as far as the the bottom, touching skin, when Zayn says, "wait," and leans up and kisses Liam, bringing their lips together, impossibly warm and soft and full if want, need, of the promise of what they're about to do.

"Okay, now," Zayn says when he pulls back. Liam pulls Zayn's shirt off as quickly as he can, sort of clumsy, but no one seems to mind.

"I vote we put Liam in charge of clothing removal," Louis says.

"Seconded," Zayn says. Liam shivers again. He can very much do that. He looks at both of them, sitting in front of him, shirtless and looking at him sort of expectantly. Louis’ still got a hand somewhere around Liam’s stomach, and Zayn’s got one on Liam’s thigh. Liam bites his lip. He wants, like. They’re just- he’s hit with this moment that like, he’s looking at the two of them, his eyes start tracing tattoos and and he wants to lick each and every single one of them. He’s staring at them and thinking about how much smaller than him they both are, which is both fascinating and weirdly so very hot because they’re both such huge people, he thinks of them both as taking up so much space, but they don’t, not here. He stares at both of them again, then takes a breath.

“Can we like, could you,” he starts. Louis nods encouragingly again, smirking but also swallowing hard. “Right, um, we need to move, onto the bed more?” Liam finishes, and they do, he says it and Louis and Zayn both slide backwards, up and towards the headboard and that’s. He thinks maybe all the synapses in his brain are shorting out at that. He nods his head and crawls toward them, sort of in the middle of both of them, on his knees and sort of hovering. Liam’s very, very glad that Louis’d unbuttoned his jeans, because he’s suddenly very aware that he wouldn’t exactly fit in them in the moment. He shifts and bites his lip again and Louis raises an eyebrow at him and it hits Liam, full on, that they’re leaving him in charge, here. Which is. Okay. He can. Right. Fuck. He crawls towards them more and he feels himself smirk a little.

“Sit closer?” Liam says, and he actually manages to leave most of the questioning note out of it, which he feels like is good. “To each other?”

“I knew it,” Louis say, shifting closer to Zayn, so they’re side by side and pressed up against each other. Which is exactly what Liam had wanted. He grins at them and then he climbs over them, slotting his legs so that he has one of their legs in between his, sort of managing to straddle both of them.

“Knew what?” Liam asks, leaning and just going for it, running his fingers across Louis’ collar bone, his thumb around Zayn’s hips.

“That you had this in you, fuck, Liam,” Louis says, sort of arching under him. Liam scoots in closer, so they’re all tangled that way, the three of them, the pressure and the angles and Liam running his hands, and then his tongue, over every spot on either of them he can reach until they’re all rocking their hips and rolling and gasping. Zayn pulls Liam up after a minute, and pulls him in for another kiss, his hand holding the back of Liam’s neck firm. They’re breathing heavy when they pull back, and then Louis is pulling him too, and god, and while he’s kissing Louis Zayn is kissing Liam’s back, up and down his spine and the angle should sort of hurt, but it doesn’t.

“Still wearing too much,” Zayn says, into the small of Liam’s back. Liam nods against Louis’ mouth.

“We put Liam in charge,” Louis says when he pulls back a little. Zayn nods, and then leans back around Liam to kiss Louis again, and god if that isn’t still the hottest thing Liam’s ever seen. Better now that he’s on top of them, really. He shifts back then, rolling so he can do something about the fact that they’re all still wearing pants. He rolls up, and somewhere, back where there are parts of his brain still firing actual words, he thinks this is like a puzzle, working the three of them, like the actual best puzzle ever. He bites his lip again, then reaches for Louis’ belt loops.

“Can we,” he starts, but Louis shakes his head.

“Don’t ask, just say it,” Louis says, and Liam has never heard Louis’ voice sound quite like that. Liam nods, then reaches out for Louis’ zipper. Louis lifts his hips and Liam slides his pants and boxers down, still sort of clumsy, but better he thinks, if Zayn’s sucked-in breath is any indication.

“Lou, you should like, make Zayn be naked now,” Liam says, managing not to stutter at all. Louis grins and does just that, reaching out for Zayn and pulling his pants down in a practiced move Liam has imagined a hundred times.

“Like that?” Louis aks. Liam nods rapidly.

“Um, Zayn you should-” Liam starts, but Zayn is a step ahead of him, already reaching out to finish what Louis had started early, and then they’re all naked and there is a brief second when Liam’s brain screams out that he’s actually naked in bed with, and still mostly on top of Louis and Zayn and this is actually happening. Right now. To him. This is actually fucking happening and he just. Like. He needs, and then they’re pulling him down and Louis is kissing him again and Zayn is sliding down to run his hands all over Liam’s hips like they knew that was what Liam needed right then, wanted. Zayn slides down farther, licking at Liam’s hip then, and Louis keeps kissing him, and Liam forces his eyes open so he can see, so he look at this, just for a minute. Zayn moves more, licking at Liam’s thighs until Liam hears himself whining into Louis’ mouth, desperate. Zayn complies, holding onto Liam’s hips with his hands as he brings his tongue up Liam, slowly, and then-

Fuck. God, And then Louis is still kissing him and Zayn is fucking holding his hips and he’s like, that is Zayn’s _mouth_ and Louis has hands all over Liam’s chest and it’s not enough and too much all at once. Liam reaches his own hands out desperately, one grabbing at Zayn’s hair and the other to reach out and around Louis, who gasps into his mouth. He feels Louis slide a hand down then too, towards Zayn’s hips and it’s. Fleeting, he thinks, it is the most impossible moment of his life, the most absurdly fantastical. He’s feeling so much, it’s like when he gets a tattoo only times about thirty, all of his senses just jumping. At some point, Zayn slides one of the hands on Liam’s hip off, and moves it over to join Liam’s hand around Louis and that’s. Between that and the fact that Zayn is like, god, Liam is a thousand percent this is the single best blow job he’s ever gotten in his whole life, the best he could ever imagine and he’s still kissing Louis and he’s touching both of them and he just loses it, crashing over the edge and melting into the bed while Louis and Zayn finish each other with practiced strokes until they’re all laying in a tangled pile, breathing heavy and gasping, not moving.

***

When Liam is finally able to open his eyes and form words again, he reaches his hands out so he’s holding both Louis and Zayn tighter and he smiles. Zayn’s got a hand on each of their chests, one over Louis and one over Liam.

“Zayn’s got this thing about heartbeats,” Louis says, catching Liam’s eye.

“Yeah, well,” Zayn says. Liam thinks this is the moment this could all turn terribly awkward, but it still feels right, still feels like- Liam does not know when he’s ever felt this much.

“When you said before, about anything I wanted?” Liam questions.

“Yes?” Louis says.

“What exactly are my options?” Liam asks.

“I said anything,” Louis says. Liam shakes his head.

“Louis,” Zayn says, shaking his head too.

“I mean like, by invited did you mean tonight? Did you mean just for, this? Did you mean, I just, you didn’t really tell me anything,” Liam says.

“You weren’t complaining,” Louis says, grinning.

“I know, but,” Liam says. His head is still swimming, and he wants to hold on to this for as long as possible.

“As long as you’d want,” Zayn says, smiling up at him. Liam smiles back.

“Yeah?”

“Do you know, that first night, you answered our ad all, ‘hi! I’m incredibly sexy and I cook and I’d like to live in your flat!’ and then you came here all sad eyed and telling us about your crisis and needing tea and air and hugs and we just,” Louis stops, “Zayn has, I have, wanted this- you- since then.”

“Really?” Liam asks. He can’t imagine that, can’t imagine them wanting him now, let alone then.

“We did, it was a bit of a problem at first, both of us sort of wanting you. Luckily we had time to work it out, you being in no place for anything and all,” Louis says.

“Right,” Liam says.

“And I thought, i’ve always been shit at maths, geometry most of all, but I’m pretty sure you can solve a triangle with loads of sex. And cuddles. And more sex,” Louis says. Zayn groans.

“I told you not to say that part,” Zayn says.

“He did,” Louis agrees, “but I thought you, Liam, might appreciate it.”

“But like, you weren’t together before?” Liam asks.

“Off and on since we were kids,” Zayn says.

“Literally. We were like fucking, fifteen or somthing,” Louis says.

“Oh,” Liam says.

“But, and you don’t have to answer this right now, but we’ve had a lot of time to talk this over, while watching you get tattoos and making you tea and eating your food and like, become more of a person again, and we sort of feel like it works better this way,” Louis says.

“With you, you make us fit better,” Zayn clarifies.

“The three of us,” Louis says. He makes a gesture with his hand, like he’s trying to draw out what he’s saying, and Liam gets it. He’s not sure this is a thing actual people do, but he wants. This and them and movies and fire escapes and cooking for them and loads of sex and cuddling forever, basically.

“I’ve been in love with both of you for months,” Liam says. Louis beams and Zayn leans up to kiss him again, and when they pull back Louis is kissing him.

Liam still probably isn’t exactly on track, and he still hasn’t sat his family down to talk about this, and maybe one day he’ll want to finish school or sing for real again, or run, but for right now, he’s in the arms of the two best people he’s ever met, and he gets to stay, with them. This is how they’re going to live now. He thinks maybe Louis was right, he’s always had this in him, so much feeling he had room for two. He just needed to get it back, find it again.

Right here, in this bed, Zayn’s hand still over Liam’s heart and Louis’ hand still laced with his, he’s pretty sure he has.


End file.
